Memento
by manhattanprincess
Summary: Everyone has their own life mementos that help them appreciate, remember, or even relieve certain moments they hold dear. We all get through life a certain way, some of us leave behind certain things to be remembered by and some of us don't, what's wrong with that? (Rating may change with time).


Hello fellow fanfictioners! I just wanted to let you know that I do not own anything Harry Potter, all the rights go to J.K. Rowling! Thanks for clicking on my story and tell me what you think.

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><p>The smell of parchment faintly lingers the air mixed with the cold and chilling smell of the night wind. I look down at the objects below from my perch atop the astronomy tower. Everything seems so small, so untouchable. The only illuminations are that of the quidditch pitch that stays lit all night and occasional dormitory room scattered across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.<p>

I hear the clock strike midnight and continue to wait, something I am very much used to. The night air is starting to make me wish I had brought my cloak or at least a thicker jumper. The night air is venomous as it makes contact with my hands and neck daringly, almost like a serpent's bite. How ironic, I think.

I rummage through my book bag I abandoned at my feet as soon as I made it to the top of the stairs. Finding the Polaroid camera my mother's muggle parents bought me for Christmas, I snap a few shots of the night sky and the amazing view of the pitch as I continue to wait.

"Still fascinated with that silly contraption?" I hear a voice drawl from behind me and swivel around in surprise. I met the pair of grey eyes and blonde hair I was expecting and turn my attention back to the night sky. He can wait.

"Yes. I find it fascinating how these things don't move. Kind of bizarre, don't you think?" I shove the photograph I had taken of the Quidditch pitch with each pole lit up and a thousand tiny stars sparkling behind them, towards him to examine my findings.

He grabs the film and looks up at the pitch, almost as if comparing the copies. I watch as his grey eyes glisten in the moonlight. "I don't think these do the pitch any justice. It is much more fascinating in person."

He hands the film back and makes his way right next to me at the balcony. Sighing, he leans his weight against the cool metal and folds his hands together, keeping his sophisticated and proper demeanor.

I smile at him and nudge his elbows with my own until he glances my way. "Yes, it's all clear, Rosie." He mumbles and looks up at me with his signature smirk that somehow brings me relief.

I nod and continue to gaze out at the stars. "How were your classes?" I ask, creating small talk. Something I know he hates. I hadn't seen him all day, but I wasn't going to ask why.

"Can we skip this? It's torture for us both." He mumbles as he caresses his hands and glances up at me. I shrug and then nod. The cold seems to be getting to him too. He turns his gaze back to the outside world, looking so at peace with the world in front of him but I know the truth.

I glance at him, admiringly and focus my camera up towards him as I casually snap a photograph of his rare calm and collected demeanor. "Really, Rose?" He mumbles then turns to me as I grab the film out of the compartment and begin to vigorously shake it allowing the image to come to view.

"You know I can't help it." I mumble as I show him my masterpiece. He just smiles and straightens up, backing away from the railing and looking me in the eyes. I shove the picture into the pocket of my jeans.

"You know what I can't help?" He smiles as he takes a step towards me, pushing my fiery red curls behind my ear and caressing my cheek with his other hand. I shiver at how cold his skin is at it makes contact with my own. "This."

He leans forward and slowly plants his lips atop mine. I smile into the kiss. He cups my face and slowly deepens the kiss, making my stomach quench with longing. I have been longing for this all day. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean into his embrace. Something I rarely get to do.

He slowly brings his hands down to my waist and I transition mine to his neck as he begins to massage circles in the groves of my hips. I slowly pull back and lean my forehead against his. He smiles at me calmly then shifts so that I am leaning my head on his shoulder and he is embracing me against his side as we both stare longingly at the night sky, full of mysteries and beauties.

I sigh against his neck and begin thinking as I massage the piece of film sticking out the top of my jean pocket. Why is it that I only get to see this Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy when no one else is around?

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><p>Thanks for reading! I am hoping to be able to continue this story! I want to know your feedback though in order to do so, I have a lot of plans for this story but it is never fun unless someone is reading or appreciating my work. Thanks a lot and review please!<p> 


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